Soot and Ashes
by SchroedingersKneazle
Summary: Torn between his desire to restore his family's name in the eyes of the Dark Lord, and the urge to run to safety, Draco Malfoy takes part in the Battle of Hogwarts. Battle of Hogwarts from Draco's point of view.
One moment they had been duelling, the next one they were all running for their lives. The fire Crabbe had conjured was spreading at an unnatural speed, fuelled by the litter that filled the room.

Draco ran towards Goyle, who was lying on the ground unconsciously, as he had been hit by a stunning spell.

The fire roared around Draco with the voices of dragons and chimaeras. He tried to pull Goyle away from the flames, but it was spreading too quickly.

The thick smoke was biting in his lungs and obscured his vision. He could no longer find the exit. They were trapped. Flames were ahead of them and flames were behind them. The heat kept rising. They couldn't get out.

He faintly heard Crabbe's cries of fear, as his friend realized he could no longer control the fire he had unleashed.

Draco climbed onto a pile of debris, dragging Goyle upwards with him. Goyle was heavy and Draco could hardly breathe. Sweat was pouring down his forehead. He looked down onto the inferno in his despair. He didn't want to die yet. He had no wand, but no counter-curse would protect them from these flames anyway. Once unleashed, the fiendfyre would burn until it ran out of fuel.

And then he saw them. Two broomsticks circling in the air above them, barely visible through the smoke. He didn't even think about the fact that those three people were supposed to be his mortal enemies. Now, they were his only, desperate hope.

The flames had caught the bottom of the pile of rubbish on which he was standing and Goyle was lying. But suddenly, out of the smoke, the broomstick reappeared. Harry Potter was stretching his arm out towards him.

Trembling, Draco grabbed Harry's hand. But both hands were sweaty from head and panic, and Harry's hand slipped out of his grasp.

"IF WE DIE FOR THEM I'LL KILL YOU!" he heard Weasley roar, but nonetheless Weasley and Granger pulled the unconscious Goyle onto their broom.

The bright orange fire engulfed Draco, devouring the ancient desk on which Goyle had lain just seconds ago. His heart was hammering. He was struggling for breath. Again, Harry seized his hand, and this time his grip was firm. With his last strength, he climbed the broom.

Having escaped the gravest danger, his senses returned. Why was Potter not heading for the door? Was he lost in the ever thickening smoke?

"The door!" Draco screamed. "It's this way!"

Draco was pointing towards the exit. He had lived in this room for almost a year, and even in its destruction, he knew the general direction.

Suddenly, Potter dived down, and Draco had to grip the handle of the broom tightly to not fall off.

"What are you doing!" he screamed as Potter narrowly avoided a flaming serpent. It took him a few seconds to realize that he had grabbed a silvery metal object.

Potter was heading for the door now. Draco screamed, as they were flying way too fast towards the exit, and they smashed into the opposite wall.

Clean air filled his lungs, but still he choked and coughed and spat soot on the floor. He looked over to Granger and Weasley and the still unconscious Goyle. Crabbe wasn't there.

Upon that realization, the taste of soot and ashes in his mouth made his stomach turn. Crabbe had died in this room, in the most horrible imaginable way. Burnt alive by the curse he couldn't control.

"C – Crabbe," he sobbed. "Crabbe."

Crabbe had been his friend and he had led him to his death.

He coughed up more ashes. Panting and retching, he sat slumped against the wall as the feeling of guilt overcame him.

But he didn't even get time to catch his breath. The wall next to him shattered, showering them with bricks, and the battle was upon them, though there was nothing Draco wanted less now than to fight. He wanted to leave this place, full of fire and soot and deathly spells.

He wanted to go back to the Manor, with its gardens and its peacocks, and most of all he wanted to find his mother.

The last two years had taught him well enough that she could no longer keep him safe. It was him who had tried his best to keep his parents safe from the wrath of the Dark Lord. But still he had the childish feeling that he would be safe if he managed to find his parents.

Almost every part of his mind screamed for him to run away from the battle. But he remembered Goyle, and he would not let him alone after he had failed to save Crabbe.

The Order members were fighting just twenty meters further down the corridor, and stray curses were hitting close to Draco.

"Rennervate!" he yelled. "Come on Goyle, we need to get away from here."

It took Draco another attempt to wake his friend, and the battle was coming closer again.

"Where's Crabbe?" Goyle grunted as he struggled back on his feet.

"We have to go!" Draco said, avoiding his question. "Away from the battle!"

"Where's Crabbe?" Goyle reiterated.

"I'm sorry," Draco said. "He didn't make it out of the room."

Speaking it out to Goyle made the dreadful truth feel more real.

"CRABBE!" Goyle roared and stormed off towards the battle, leaving Draco behind.

Draco hurried in the other direction, away from the battle, as he still had no wand. Running made his lungs ache, which were still full of the smoke and ashes from the Room of Hidden Things. Only the threat of the battle behind him kept him running, down an abandoned corridor. Panting, he collapsed against a wall.

He had nowhere to go. To the defenders of Hogwarts he was a Death Eater, and to the Death Eaters he was a traitor or a deserter as he had failed to answer the calls of the Dark Lord. Like a scared child Draco crawled into a corner and grieved his dead friend.

But he had to move, the battle was coming closer again. He continued his flight down the corridor, until he emerged at the moving staircases. No medieval artist could have imagined the hell that awaited Draco there. Curses were flying from side to side, the moving stairs throwing attackers and defenders into constantly changing battles. Rubble and dust were everywhere. Draco stumbled over something that looked awfully like a body, even though he risked no closer look. Next to it lay a wand though, and Draco took it. It felt unfamiliar in his hand, more like a mundane stick than like an extension of his arm. But it was better than nothing. His newfound wand drawn, he took cover behind a gargoyle.

The Death Eaters had advanced far into the castle, but every attempt to storm the staircases had been repelled in a shower of curses. The floor below the stairs was littered in debris. The bodies of Death Eaters and defenders alike lay scattered on the ground. It was impossible to tell if among the masked and robed bodies was someone he had known.

It was horrible, but he couldn't turn his eyes off. He watched a group of Death Eaters and Snatchers try to capture one of the stairs, but a massive blasting curse sent it crashing down several floors to the ground, showering the other battles in debris. Many of the people who fell to the ground didn't get up again.

A stray curse ricocheted into the wall close to where Draco was standing, and only the gargoyle in front of him protected him from a shower of rocks. He was shrouded in a cloud of thick dust. Draco panicked, running down the corridor towards a smaller stair, instinctively down towards the entrance hall to escape the castle, oblivious of the fact that the battle was bound to be the fiercest there.

Flashes of red and green were bolting through the air, filled with smoke. Dolohov was dueling Dean Thomas, Professor McGonagall was helping Parvati Patil fighting Travers, while holding back Mulciber at the same time.

Draco was shocked by hearing Ginny Weasley cry _Sectumsempra_ and witnessing a masked Death Eater collapse in a puddle of blood. He had not thought the Weasley girl had it in her to kill someone.

Without thinking, Draco cried for his parents in a desperate attempt to find them. But only Avery came, and cornered him.

"Little frightened boys have no place in a battle," Avery said in a cruel mocking voice, and raised his wand.

"I'm Draco Malfoy, I'm Draco, I'm on your side," Draco pleaded, but Avery only grinned at him.

"I know who you are," Avery replied, keeping his wand pointed at Draco, but collapsing as he got hit by a flash of red light.

Draco turned around, trying to identify his saviour, but that was when an invisible fist made contact with his face, and he toppled backwards onto the unconscious Avery. He heard Weasley shout something at him, but he didn't listen, still confused who has saved him only to punch him in the face.

He looked around the duellists, but could not spot his parents anywhere. Wanting to leave the scene of the fierce fighting, there was no way out but to retreat back into the corridor where he had come from.

"Draco!" he heard a voice behind him. He turned around and found himself staring at Theodore Nott and Matilda Pucey, a Ravenclaw fifth year and sister of his former quidditch team mate Adrian Pucey.

Theodore was pale and appeared very distraught, very much unlike his usually calm and secluded temper. Matilda looked simply terrified by the battle around her.

"Have you seen Daphne?" Theodore asked, his voice trembling. "She told me to wait for her while she escorted the fourth years out of the castle, but she didn't return before the battle started. I need to find her."

"Sorry, I haven't. Have you seen Goyle?" Draco answered."

"He lives. I saw him on the third floor a while ago with Macnair and Avery."

"Don't go to the entrance hall," Draco told his friend. "It's a massacre."

"But what if Daphne is there?" Theodore asked.

"I don't think she is," Draco said. "I didn't see her there."

They hurried back into the corridor where Theodore and Matilda had come from, but then took a different turn to continue their search for Daphne. The fighting had not reached this part of the school yet, the walls and statues were still undamaged, but the paintings on the walls were upset, hurrying from frame to frame to gather news of the battle.

"What's she doing with you?" Draco asked Theodore, pointing to Matilda.

"I'm protecting her. She didn't get out in time. She's looking for Adrian."

Suddenly, the light of the torches seemed to fade. Flames were rising in front of Draco's eyes though, and he heard the screams of Crabbe again as the fire pursued him.

Dementors were hovering at the far end of the corridor, and closing down on them. Draco tried to remember Snape's lesson on Dementors from last year. A happy memory, he needed a happy memory. But he didn't even remember when he had been properly happy the last time.

The foul creatures approached them, and Draco could almost smell and taste the soot from the Room of Requirement again. He heard Crabbe's screams and the roars of the cursed fire.

Then a silver hawk pierced the darkness around him, and the Dementors retreated. The light returned. He turned around to Theodore, who was staring admiringly at Matilda.

"Where did you learn that?" he asked.

"Dumbledore's Army," replied Matilda.

"You… you freaking blood-traitor!" Theodore cried, but he was still beaming at Matilda.

"She just saved our bloody lives! Who cares where she learnt it?" Draco replied.

They turned round the corner, into the corridor where the Dementors had come from, and Theo's expression froze.

Part of the ceiling had collapsed into a heap of rubble. And below it emerged a pale hand with a gleaming emerald ring on its finger. Draco watched Theodore's face become paler than a ghost, and then he understood.

Theodore kneeled down next to the hand.

"No…" he sobbed. "NO!"

Draco recognized the ring. Theodore had often pulled it out of his pocket when they were in their dormitories, trying to muster the courage to propose to Daphne. On Easter he had finally done it. They had wanted to marry in August, right after their graduation, as it was the fashion of very traditional wizarding families.

Draco looked down at the shivering and sobbing Theo who was still clutching the hand of his fiancée.

Daphne hadn't even been a Death Eater. She had died trying to get a group of younger students to safety. She wasn't the first innocent victim in this war he had seen die, but the first one he had known this closely.

The ongoing battle did not respect Theo's need to grieve. Its sound drew nearer again, and the green and red flashes of light were visible in the distance already.

Theo didn't make any signs of moving away. Silent and motionless he still sat next to the rubble, still holding Daphne's hand.

And then the battle ceased, as the cold, high-pitched voice that Draco had learnt to dread echoed through the castle.

 _You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste._

"That's all you care about," Draco thought. "Blood. You don't care about Crabbe or Daphne, as long as there are enough other purebloods around."

This sense of disposability was the worst about being a Death Eater. In Voldemort's eyes, no one was irreplaceable save he, the Dark Lord himself.

 _Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat, immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured._

Lord Voldemort was not merciful. His treatment of the Malfoys was enough evidence of that. If he was calling off the battle, it must mean that he needed no more blood to be spilled to reach his goals.

He was speaking to Harry Potter now, giving him one hour to surrender or the battle would resume.

Draco felt tired, unbelievably tired now that the battle had paused. Theodore was still silently sobbing next to Daphne. He started pulling the rubble off her, as if it could still save her. Her bloodstained pale face was covered in dust. Draco looked away. He didn't want to see what was beneath the rubble.

"Who is this?" Matilda asked.

"Daphne Greengrass. She was his fiancée." Draco told Matilda.

Draco heard footsteps coming towards them. It was Neville Longbottom.

"Malfoy, what are you still doing here? I thought the Death Eaters are withdrawing?" he said in a mocking tone. "Matilda, what are you doing with them, I thought you were on our side," he continued in a more concerned voice.

"Neville, Theo's my cousin. I never told them anything about the D.A., not even my brother Adrian," Matilda pleaded.

At the mention of his name, Theodore looked up. Staring at Longbottom, his face assumed an expression of pure loathing.

"Look at her, coward!" he screamed at Longbottom. "Look what your rebellion has achieved. You killed my future wife. Why did you do this? She was no Death Eater."

Neville seemed to have force himself to look at Daphne. At first he appeared terrified, but then he looked sad instead.

"Voldemort did this," Neville said. "It was Voldemort. I have not started this. I'm trying to end it."

"The Dark Lord didn't even enter the castle." Theodore responded. "And the Death Eaters are our fathers, our cousins, our aunts and our uncles. It was your lot who did this. Matilda, go with him, you're a blood traitor just like him."

Theodore got up to push Matilda angrily towards Longbottom. She looked at him, scared and sad as her cousin abandoned her.

"Go, blood-traitor." He said before turning back to his fiancée.

Draco watched Neville wrapping an arm round Matilda's shoulders as they left.

"I knew something was wrong with her ever since she got sorted into Ravenclaw," Theodore said bitterly, and began to clear more rubble off Daphne's body.

Draco left Theodore behind. There was nothing Draco could do to help him. And he wanted to get somewhere without smoke and soot and dust and dead bodies.

But as he wandered aimlessly through the school, he realized that all of it was in ruins. Everywhere he found rubble and every time he passed a body he feared he would recognize it. The smell of smoke was still lingering in the air. He had not seen his parents since the battle had started. Had they taken part? Were they still alive?

There was no peaceful place in the castle, just an eerie silence in anticipation of the next battle. He wanted to go home, to the Manor. And he didn't think of the sinister headquarters of the Dark Lord. He longed for the lavishly decorated home of his childhood, with its fair marble halls and its bright green gardens, where he had always felt safe.

He realized, what he had believed to protect by joining the Dark Lord had been taken from him by the Dark Lord.

As much as it hurt Draco to admit it, Longbottom was right. It was the Dark Lord who had started this. And Draco was too much of a coward to try and end it. He was just running away, waiting for it all to be over.


End file.
